IYOK6 cookies
Jul. 12th, 2004 02:08 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sarea
Did you know that Ryan Gosling sings? Well, he does. You can download his song "Put Me in the Car" here. Be warned, it's 3.56MB.
A couple of days ago, an anonymous commenter was like (paraphrased), "WhyTF hasn't there been IYOK in so long?" And Jade and I were like, "OMG we are such loohoosers." So then Jade went and wrote some of her part, making me look, as usual, like a total slacker. But tonight, I caught up! HaHA! The good news is, we've written roughly 8,500 words of IYOK6. The bad news is, we're only about halfway done. Still, we're on a roll, and this is a darn sight better than being no-way done, right?
In the meanwhile, a few cookies...
~~~~~~~~
"So what do you think?" she asked, attempting to sound business like.
"I think I need to come over one day when I can actually pick up some of these things and examine them properly," Draco said.
"No," said Ginny.
"Why, are you afraid that I'll spread around your love for ... let's see ... My Little Hippogriff dolls?" Draco grinned. "Or that I'll know too much about you?"
Ginny shuddered to think what kind of profile he'd piece together on her from her belongings as a young girl. She decided to be honest. "Yes."
Draco stepped closer to her, and even though she knew he was nothing but an image, she held her breath as if he were going to touch her. "It's too late. I already know all about you, Ginny," he said softly, and his expression was tender.
~~~~~~~~
"Done," he said aloud, not realizing until he'd spoken that it was true. Four pages of parchment sat before him, covered in his familiar, messy scrawl. Hermione would go through it and throw half of it out, adding more concise accounts, sharpening up his grammar, rephrasing things so the Prophet didn't end up getting sued for Harry's unauthorized editorializing. She'd been keeping him honest for most of his life, and he didn't know what he would ever do without her.
"Good heavens, you are not," Hermione said, sounding exasperated as she emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was in more disarray than usual, and she was sweating. She looked over his shoulder, and he tried to tell himself that the way her gross hair brushed his cheek wasn't endearing, but his quota of denial was all used up for one lifetime, so he leaned in a little closer and breathed her in. She was disgusting smelling, frazzled, and nagging at him, and Harry loved her with every beat of his heart.
"Harry," she said a few moments later, "you didn't have to do all this. I would have helped as soon as I'd finished making sure you weren't going to erode away under all this mold."
"My flat is not moldy," he said. "It's just lived in."
~~~~~~~~
The first time she saw him, she was taken by his beauty; the curve of his jaw, the paleness of his skin, the cruelty in his eyes. She had every reason to distrust him, yet she was compelled to put her life in his hands again and again without fear, sure that he would always keep her safe.
For his part, Deacon had never wanted to keep someone safe before, but something about Georgia, the fire of her hair, the way she looked at him as if she didn't think him a monster, brought out protective instincts he hadn't realized he possessed.
Theirs was the unlikeliest of alliances and the strangest of friendships, yet over the years, they would work together, and an unbreakable bond would form between them, one that nothing would ever be capable of separating.
Except, perhaps, by the cold hand of death.
A couple of days ago, an anonymous commenter was like (paraphrased), "WhyTF hasn't there been IYOK in so long?" And Jade and I were like, "OMG we are such loohoosers." So then Jade went and wrote some of her part, making me look, as usual, like a total slacker. But tonight, I caught up! HaHA! The good news is, we've written roughly 8,500 words of IYOK6. The bad news is, we're only about halfway done. Still, we're on a roll, and this is a darn sight better than being no-way done, right?
In the meanwhile, a few cookies...
~~~~~~~~
"So what do you think?" she asked, attempting to sound business like.
"I think I need to come over one day when I can actually pick up some of these things and examine them properly," Draco said.
"No," said Ginny.
"Why, are you afraid that I'll spread around your love for ... let's see ... My Little Hippogriff dolls?" Draco grinned. "Or that I'll know too much about you?"
Ginny shuddered to think what kind of profile he'd piece together on her from her belongings as a young girl. She decided to be honest. "Yes."
Draco stepped closer to her, and even though she knew he was nothing but an image, she held her breath as if he were going to touch her. "It's too late. I already know all about you, Ginny," he said softly, and his expression was tender.
~~~~~~~~
"Done," he said aloud, not realizing until he'd spoken that it was true. Four pages of parchment sat before him, covered in his familiar, messy scrawl. Hermione would go through it and throw half of it out, adding more concise accounts, sharpening up his grammar, rephrasing things so the Prophet didn't end up getting sued for Harry's unauthorized editorializing. She'd been keeping him honest for most of his life, and he didn't know what he would ever do without her.
"Good heavens, you are not," Hermione said, sounding exasperated as she emerged from the bathroom. Her hair was in more disarray than usual, and she was sweating. She looked over his shoulder, and he tried to tell himself that the way her gross hair brushed his cheek wasn't endearing, but his quota of denial was all used up for one lifetime, so he leaned in a little closer and breathed her in. She was disgusting smelling, frazzled, and nagging at him, and Harry loved her with every beat of his heart.
"Harry," she said a few moments later, "you didn't have to do all this. I would have helped as soon as I'd finished making sure you weren't going to erode away under all this mold."
"My flat is not moldy," he said. "It's just lived in."
~~~~~~~~
The first time she saw him, she was taken by his beauty; the curve of his jaw, the paleness of his skin, the cruelty in his eyes. She had every reason to distrust him, yet she was compelled to put her life in his hands again and again without fear, sure that he would always keep her safe.
For his part, Deacon had never wanted to keep someone safe before, but something about Georgia, the fire of her hair, the way she looked at him as if she didn't think him a monster, brought out protective instincts he hadn't realized he possessed.
Theirs was the unlikeliest of alliances and the strangest of friendships, yet over the years, they would work together, and an unbreakable bond would form between them, one that nothing would ever be capable of separating.
Except, perhaps, by the cold hand of death.
